


A Season in Hell

by gothclark



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothclark/pseuds/gothclark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Alaric goes vampire evil, the only choice is to dagger him and lock him up in a coffin. Angry that Elena chose Stefan, Damon fights the urge to revert back to his evil ways.  He becomes obsessed with Alaric, and frees him, discovering that it's much easier to take what he wants than he realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Season in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Thanks to rose for allowing me to bend her ear. Thanks to my beta reader teot. Remaining errors are all mine.  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.

A choice had been made.

Damon sat with a dink in his hand, the scene from last night playing in a loop in his mind. No matter how much he drank, he couldn't erase their last moment together from his memory.

Evil, vampire Alaric trapped between Damon and Stefan, and at the last possible moment, Stefan stepped aside and from behind, terror in her eyes, Elena plunged the ash-coated dagger into Alaric's chest. Alaric pushed back, throwing Elena across the living room of the boarding house. Stefan rushed to Elena's aid.

Alaric's struggles ceased and his gaze locked on Damon, confusion dancing in his eyes. One word passed his lips before Alaric went still.

"Damon?" Then his eyes went cold. His body turned to stone.

Damon caught Alaric in his arms and lowered him to the floor. He crumpled to his knees, cradling Alaric's head in his lap.

Damon gulped his drink and crushed the memory, thrusting it from his mind. He'd kept that last part to himself. Now Alaric's body lay dormant in the basement, locked in a coffin with a dagger in his heart. His best friend gone, Damon drank alone.

He ignored the footfalls behind him and drank straight from the bottle.

"She's sleeping," Stefan said. His brother meant Elena of course. While Damon had secured a final resting place for his ex best friend, Stefan had been upstairs taking care of Elena.

Damon stared at the cold hearth, wondering if he should start a fire. He set the bottle down and stood, gaze focused on the empty blackness. "Well, one of us will sleep tonight." His body felt numb, but he forced himself to pick up the logs, arrange them in the fireplace and set them ablaze. When he stood and brushed the dust from his hands, he didn't take his eyes away from the flames.

"I know you're tempted to shut it all out, lash out," Stefan said. 

Damon twisted around to find Stefan behind him. He clenched his jaw, riding out the anger he felt that his brother knew him so well. 

"He was your best friend and I know how much that can hurt."

Damon shrugged and turned back to stare at the flames. "Whatever. Just because my best friend tried to kill me and everyone I care about...." He shrugged again. "Klaus and Rebekah left town care of Ric, and Kol and that psycho mom of theirs are dead, also care of Ric. At least he managed to kill a few of those pricks."

Stefan reached out and wrapped an arm around Damon's shoulders, resting his forehead against the back of Damon's neck. They stood like that, in silence for a long while. Stefan rubbed Damon's shoulder and released his hold, stepping back. When Damon turned to face him, Stefan averted his gaze. Red flames danced in Stefan's eyes.

"It's over."

"Yeah," Damon said, his gaze trailing over Stefan, examining his stance. Something was bothering Stefan and Damon had a feeling he knew what that was. Elena had yet to make a choice between them, and Damon was almost sure he knew what her choice would be. It seemed that his brother also knew what that choice would be, and when it came down to her announcing that she wished to be with him, Damon knew that he would have to be there for Stefan. "For now." Damon narrowed his eyes and watched Stefan turn and move toward the stairs leading up to the second floor.

"I'm going to try to get some sleep myself," Stefan said without turning around.

Acknowledging with a nod, Damon walked to the sofa and collapsed, reaching for his abandoned bottle. Whiskey, Ric's favorite. Damon removed the cap and gulped down half the contents in one swig. He wasn't dunk enough yet to forget everything, but this was a good start. He sat watching the flames turn from a roaring fire to embers, indifferent to how much time passed.

He didn't turn at the sound of someone coming up behind him. He didn't need to.

"You're supposed to be asleep." Damon took another drink, the room a blur. He glanced up when Elena moved into his field of vision, and then trailed his eyes down to the three empty bottles in front of him.

"How long..." Elena narrowed her eyes at him.

"Vampire bender," Damon said with a sloppy wave. "Takes a lot more to get me good and drunk." He averted his gaze from her look of empathy. A talking to from a child was not what he needed right now. There was a moment of silence. Damon raised his glass. "To Alaric who fucking tried to kill us all in the end. I should have snapped his neck when I had the chance." Damon drank and muttered 'bitch' with the glass on his lips. Just saying his name made Damon want to smash things and rip someone's heart out. Maybe he'd go hunting tonight. He stood with that thought in mind, but fell back onto the sofa when Elena nudged him.

"Oh no you don't," Elena said. Her words were soft and Damon could hear the concern dripping from every syllable.

Damon frowned. Maybe he'd spoken that last part about ripping out a heart aloud. He sighed and set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

"I was hoping to talk to you."

Damon glanced up and into Elena's soulful eyes. This was the moment. The choice had been made. He could see it in her expression, and Damon forced his mind to focus, to sober. He gestured at the sofa beside him. "I'm all yours." He chuckled and smiled at the thought of his brother tomorrow.

"Maybe I should wait until you're sober," Elena said. She stared down at Damon for a moment as though waiting for something, and then turned to leave.

"No." Damon stood and cleared his mind, moving into the space in front of Elena, stopping her next step. "I'm good." They stood close enough for Damon to feel her heart pound. The intimate moment broke when Elena stepped back and away.

"This is not a good time," Elena said, holding one hand up as though to stop Damon from advancing.

"Oh no _you_ don't," Damon said with a wag of his finger. "You don't get to waltz in here with your soft doe eyes and say you need to talk then walk away." Damon was almost sober at the thought of Elena doing just that. He took a deep breath and motioned to the sofa.

Elena crossed her arms, a stubborn expression on her face, but Damon was not going to back down. He turned and smiled when he sensed his brother coming down the stairs.

"Come on, brother," Damon motioned to the sofa again. "Why don't you join us?"

Damon paused only for a moment at the expression on Stefan's face. For someone who had just been dumped, he didn't look all that sad. Then Damon moved to the sofa and sprawled across the length. Stefan didn't join him. He stood beside Elena, leaning close enough to touch shoulders with her.

"I can't keep stringing you along," Elena said. Her gaze was on Damon. She glanced up at Stefan for a brief moment then glanced around the room.

"What." Damon sat up, realizing that they were in on some joke and only he didn't know the punch line.

"I'm sorry, Damon," Elena said.

Damon clenched his jaw and stood. His first thought was to scream, but he squashed that. Instead, he took a breath and turned his back to them.

"I'm going to take Elena home," Stefan said. 

Damon flinched away from the hand on his shoulder. "You do that." He walked to the bar and shrugged. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"We can talk later," said Elena. Her words dripped with empathy. Damon didn't want to hear it now and he didn't want to hear it later. "Please don't lash out. I want to explain."

Damon whirled on them with a snarl. He rushed out the front door and didn't stop until he was deep in the woods. So she'd chosen and it wasn't him. Damon ran. At first, he thought to leave the town and not return for a lifetime, but sobriety changed that. It was dawn before he turned back toward Mystic Falls. Damon walked at a leisure pace on the side of the road, ignoring cars as they zoomed along in both directions. He stopped at a bus stop and sat down. A car pulled up a few minutes later and a girl stepped out, waving good-bye to the driver. Damon could feel his hunger growing. He was far enough away from Mystic Falls to deter the wrath of others coming down on him. Why shouldn't he indulge? It had been too long.

The girl sat down on the bench, nervous when she spotted Damon. He smiled and waved. She looked away. He wasn't dressed for the climate. He must have looked a mess. When he'd rushed from the house he'd only been in jeans and a t-shirt, leaving his jacket behind. It didn't matter. He couldn't feel the chill in the air, but he could see the girl's breath. Damon's fangs descended, and he turned his back to her. Elena's words echoed in his mind. Alaric's whispered plea just before he had almost died for Damon to be a better man also echoed in his mind.

Damon stood and rushed to the forest, uncaring that to the girl he'd appeared to have vanished. She would probably just write it off as some freak hallucination. Damon put her from his mind and felt good about his choice until he stopped short at the scent carried on the wind. Blood. Someone was hurt and bleeding.

Damon changed his path and stopped when he saw the man standing with his wounded hand raised. Damon didn't think. He rushed forward, turned the man's gaze to face him.

"Don't move, don't cry out and don't remember me." Damon stared down at the slash across the man's hand, hypnotized by the blood. He bent his head and licked then bit, ignoring the man's cry of pain. Damon kept drinking, wanting to stop this man's heart, not caring if he did, but he heard Alaric's words echo in his mind again. 

_"Be the better man."_

The slowing heartbeat stopped Damon short of draining the man dry. Damon raised his head and released his victim, watching him crumple to the grass. When someone found him, they would think he'd lost blood and fainted. Damon turned back in the direction of Mystic Falls.

In a matter of an hour, he was at the boarding house and through the front door. The place was silent, empty except for one thing. Damon grabbed a bottle and moved to the basement entrance, gliding down the steps to stop at the bottom. The casket sat against the wall. Damon moved toward the wooden coffin, uncapping the bottle and taking a long pull.

"I hope you're happy." Damon gulped the bottle down, relieved to be alone. He turned and smashed the bottle against the far wall. "Look what being the better man got me." Damon wanted to scream. He rushed forward and swept the candles someone had placed in the room to the floor, wanting to destroy everything in his path. Then he did scream, smashing the holders, and everything he could get his hands on. Damon rushed upstairs and grabbed two more bottles, gulping them down then smashing them both in the hearth. He broke anything within his field of vision, smashing vases, knick-knacks, glasses, anything. He grabbed two more bottles of whiskey and rushed back down to Alaric's coffin. Setting the bottles down on top of the coffin lid, Damon removed the cap from one and raised the bottle in the air.

"Fuck you," Damon toasted, upending the bottle and drinking it in one gulp. If only he could die from the alcohol poisoning. That would be a great way to go out.

When this bottle was empty, Damon turned and smashed it against the far wall, showering the room with bits of broken glass.

"Fuck. You. All." Damon swayed and reached for the last bottle, uncapped it and took a drink. Feeling drained, he sat down and leaned against the closed casket, taking another long drink. "She chose Stefan." In his head, Damon heard Alaric laugh. "You're probably relieved about that." Damon tilted his head and chuckled. "Yeah, right. Because the guy who rips his victims to pieces is so-oo much better than me." Damon took another swig. "I know what you're going to say. You think she's too young, has no life experience that we could wait..."

A thought occurred. He sat up and got to his knees, facing the casket. Damon set the bottle down and reached out to open the coffin. In death, Alaric looked at peace. Damon leaned in, wrapping his hand around the hilt of the dagger embedded in Alaric's chest. He could end it all here, now, pull the dagger out and watch the fallout, even help with the chaos.

Damon stopped at the sound of the front door opening. He pulled back, slammed the lid on the casket and moved out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He stopped in the living room when he saw Stefan examining the damage. Stefan only nodded and headed for the stairs to the second floor. Too drunk to care, Damon grabbed another bottle and trudged to his own room, pausing on the landing to glance down. He reached out but sensed nothing.

* * *

The next few weeks were spent in a haze of alcohol and nights alone, taunting Stefan that Damon would go off the deep end and drain someone dry. It became a game to see how far Damon could push Stefan. Damon felt nothing. He felt worse than hollow, and most of the time he avoided Stefan and Elena, but some of the time that wasn't possible. Those times drove Damon crazy. He left the room the second the two of them became cuddly or even remotely adorable.

He found he missed Alaric's drunken banter. A few times Damon stayed at the loft. It was still in Alaric's name and Damon continued to pay the rent as though his friend had gone on a long vacation. Damon found it easy to avoid any nosy neighbors poking around Alaric's private business. He never needed to go to the school, and when he heard that they'd hired a new history teacher, Damon couldn't resist checking out the new professor. He was a middle aged balding guy that Jeremy said was 'more boring than toast.' 

Then there were the nights when Damon went to visit the Gilbert house. Those were nights when Elena wasn't there. Jeremy would babble on about the boring shit going on in his life. Damon would almost listen because he liked to think that if Alaric had been here, he would have listened. That got tedious and pointless fast, but he went anyway because he had nothing else to do. 

Jeremy was at home tonight while Elena and Stefan went to yet another excursion to her parents' cabin. Damon brought the alcohol, which Jeremy was too young to drink, but Damon didn't care, more for him. At least they could play some X-box together or whatever it was that Jeremy had in his living room.

The door opened and Damon grinned at the stupid look on Jeremy's face. The kid almost always looked stunned or surprised. It didn't matter to Damon that Jeremy hated him and wanted him gone from his life. That made these visits that much more entertaining.

"Knock, knock," Damon said. "I brought the party favors." He waved the bottle.

Jeremy shook his head and then stepped aside to allow Damon passage into the house. It wasn't like he could stop Damon anyway.

"I'm not old enough to drink, you know," Jeremy said. He walked away from Damon, headed to the kitchen. Damon followed.

"Whatever," Damon said with a shrug of his shoulders. He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen.

"I guess this means my sister's at your place," Jeremy said. There was a loaf of bread on the island counter and a jar of peanut butter.

Damon frowned and set his bottle down, removed his leather jacket and draped it over a chair. He opened the refrigerator and peeked inside. There wasn't much to work with, but he could make due.

"Doesn't she at least feed you before going out to screw her dead boyfriend?" Damon smirked at the flinch. He turned his back on Jeremy and pulled a few things from the 'fridge. By the time he was done, he had the fixings for something more substantial than a peanut butter sandwich. He set about chopping and preparing beef with sautéed vegetables.

Jeremy sat down on a stool and watched. "Why the hell are you here?"

Damon ignored the question and set the pan on the stove top, stirring when it started to sizzle. He turned back and finished chopping the red peppers. "You'll have to go shopping tomorrow. Better yet, I'll send some things over."

"Seriously, Damon. Why are you here? Don't you have someplace else to be? It's not like we're friends or anything."

Damon raised his gaze to stare at Jeremy, and shrugged. He pointed the knife at Jeremy. "Expect a delivery some time in the morning." He paused to stir. After a long drawn out silence, Damon said, "They went to the cottage for the weekend. Elena asked me to keep an eye on you." Damon leaned forward and squinted to show that he was indeed keeping one eye on Jeremy.

The room went silent again. Jeremy settled back on his seat with a roll of his eyes. It was obvious that Elena had neglected to let her sibling know about her weekend plans. Damon stirred the beef strips, and put the chopped vegetables in a separate pan, setting the pan on a burner. They didn't speak for a long while and Damon set two plates on the counter, seasoning the beef and vegetables as they cooked.

"I blame this on you," Jeremy said.

Damon sighed. "How's that." He humored the kid, but tuned him out. Damon's mind was on another night like this one when he had stopped in to check on the kids to find Alaric alone. They'd made dinner together and watched some comedy rerun thing that Damon had paid no attention to because he'd been watching Alaric.

"Maybe if you hadn't snapped Alaric's neck, he never would have turned on us!"

Damon stopped what he was doing and turned to face Jeremy. His hand twitched toward the knife, and he clenched his jaw. He knew Jeremy had to take these pot shots. Damon blamed himself for some of what went down. He'd apologized to Ric just before his death.

Jeremy stared at Damon, unflinching.

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

"That's probably what started him on the road to hating..."

Damon didn't realize he'd taken a step toward Jeremy until he saw the flash of fear in the kid's eyes. He stopped, clenching his fists at his side. The bell rang. Jeremy turned from Damon, almost in a show that he didn't fear him. The burning smell distracted Damon and he turned his attention to the meal, staring at the smoke wafting up from the pan of vegetables. When he turned back, Jeremy had left the room. Damon heard the door open and the sound of Caroline, Tyler and Bonnie traveling down the hall. He switched off the burners and rushed to the front door in time to see Jeremy grab his jacket and exit the house. Their gazes locked. Behind him, Caroline, Tyler and Bonnie stood silent.

"Don't wait up," Jeremy said without preamble. He slammed the door behind him. Damon narrowed his eyes. He should have followed but realized that he didn't care. Jeremy was in good hands.

* * *

The boarding house was silent.

Damon tossed his jacket on the sofa and poured himself a drink, gulping the alcohol down. He opted to forgo the continued use of a glass and sprawled on the sofa with the bottle instead.

He knew. The night Damon had so carelessly snapped Alaric's neck still haunted him. It had taken hours for Ric to come back to life. That must have been the time the original witch had whispered poison in Ric's ear, tainting their friend to the point of creating his evil alter ego.

Damon knew. He sat awake some nights thinking on how pointless that moment had been. How he'd regretted his actions the second he'd taken them, but was too blinded by rage to realize at the time that perhaps lashing out at Alaric was not the way to go. If he was truthful, he would admit that it wasn't just rage that had blinded him at the time.

Damon sneered at his own self-loathing. It did no one any good now. Ric was gone and the fallout had nearly destroyed all their lives. Damon lived with his actions and moved on. He jumped up and hurled the bottle at the fireplace, watching it smash into a hundred broken shards.

A noise from the cellar pinged in his ear. Damon rushed to the door to the basement, and listened. There was no sound, just the distance noises of the night. A clock struck midnight, Damon relaxed. Even though he was alone in this big, dark, dusty house, he wasn't completely alone. He knew that his mind had to be playing tricks on him.

"Wishful thinking," Damon muttered.

Damon scooped up his bottle and snagged a second on the way down to the cellar. He raised the lid of the coffin and stared down at Alaric's stone figure. Damon didn't like to dwell, so why was he so intent on dwelling on this? He should have done things differently. Why hadn't he done things differently, but he hadn't, and now it had come to this.

He picked up the scattered candles and lit them, forgoing electric lights. The mood lighting was much more flattering, and besides, Damon liked Ric in candlelight and -- he hadn't just thought that. He would deny it to anyone who even hinted at the possibility. He'd kill anyone who came close to even contemplating such a thought.

"I fucking hate you," Damon said, pointing a finger at Alaric. "You had to stick your nose in everything." Damon took a drink, gulping down the bottle. He tossed the empty against the far wall, noting the shards of broken glass from his last tirade. He shrugged and uncapped the next bottle. "To you." Damon raised the bottle and drank. "And your stupid, stupidness." Damon smirked, swaying on his feet. He blinked and his shoulders sagged. "If only you'd talked to me right after, I would have said a thousand apologies, but you kept turning your back on me." Damon sat down on the edge of the coffin, waving his free hand. "You know I do stupid shit. You know I do stupid shit." He took another drink, frustrated that the bottle was almost empty. "You should have forgiven me right away. I would have been better. I could have been better." He stared down at Alaric's expressionless face, seeing the pain in Alaric's eyes when he'd been stabbed from behind. The moment was stamped in Damon's mind for eternity. He blinked and clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the threatening tears.

Too drained from his tirade to move, Damon fell back against the open door of the coffin, his ass landing on top of Alaric's legs. He sighed and finished the bottle, eyes unfocused. When he turned his gaze to stare down at Alaric, he imagined Alaric's eyes opening, his gaze locking on Damon and a voice in Damon's head mocking him. He swore he cold hear Alaric's taunting voice.

_'Wallowing is so not you.'_

Damon shook his head and settling into the coffin, between Alaric's legs.

"Whatever," Damon mumbled. He swallowed another drink and almost lay down, setting his head against Alaric's chest, just beneath the dagger, Damon's legs still dangling over the edge. He remembered the look of fear in Elena's eyes when she pulled the dagger out of Ric's back and jabbed it into his chest. Remembered the way Elena sobbed and covered her mouth, averting her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at Ric. Damon had seen the smile on Alaric's face. He'd seen the look of admiration.

Damon sighed and shook his head. So maudlin, this really wasn't him. He should have known better. He jumped up from his sprawl and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind him. In seconds, Damon was upstairs, hand on the throat of whomever had interrupted his reverie.

"Whoa, Damon," Stefan said. He gripped Damon's wrist with both hands, pulling Damon's hand from his neck, but keeping Damon close.

Damon stared with wide eyes at his brother, a startled expression on Stefan's face. They stood motionless for a moment. Damon contemplated tearing into Stefan, but then he heard the intake of breath behind Stefan, human breath and human scent, Elena. Damon yanked his arm away from Stefan and snarled, turning his back on them.

"You're back early," Damon said with a growl. He moved to the bar, poured a drink, and took the bottle as well. Without waiting for a response from Stefan, Damon flopped down on the sofa, sprawling with his legs up on the coffee table. He drank from the bottle, and then drank the glass.

"Don't you think you might want to slow down," Stefan said.

Damon glared up at Stefan, ignoring Elena, pretending she wasn't even there. "I think I can decide when I've had enough, baby brother." He finished the bottle and threw it. Stefan caught it in midair, robbing Damon of the sound of shattered glass. Damon curled his lip. "To quote someone else, fuck off." Damon stood and walked to the bar, snatching up another drink. He ignored the deep sigh his actions elicited from Stefan.

There was a long pause of uncomfortable silence. Damon imagined Elena pleading with her big soft eyes to Stefan to allow her a moment alone with Damon. The sound of shuffling feet told him that they had moved away, but Damon could hear the soft whispers. Stefan knew he would be able to hear and Damon knew this was for his benefit.

"He's too unstable."

"We have to do something," Elena said. Her soft breath and the thump of her heart told Damon there was genuine concern in her words.

"All we can do is be here for him," Stefan said.

"Just keep the booze coming." Damon turned his head, seeing them in his peripheral vision. They made a motion in his direction, but Stefan held Elena back with one hand on her arm.

"I should get home," Elena said. "Jeremy..."

"Went out with his buddies," Damon said, turning to stare down at the table top before him. He fingered a glass, playing with the rim. Another bout of silence and then there was movement away from Damon. "But go home anyway." Damon waved a hand in her general direction. He moved to the sofa and fell back, sprawling against the deep plush fabric.

After a moment, he heard the sound of the front door closing. Stefan sat down across from him with his hands folded before him, with an expectant expression on his face.

"Don't you think this is a little beneath you?" Stefan sighed and sat back, gaze sweeping the room before it settled on Damon again.

Damon smirked and raised his glass in a mock toast before downing the rest of the contents. He shrugged and remained silent, staring off at the cold hearth. Maybe he should start a fire, warm the place up a little.

"Elena's worried about you," Stefan said.

Damon straightened and focused his gaze on Stefan. He looked tense and stressed. "Did she tell you that herself?" Damon watched Stefan's body language. "Trouble in paradise? Does she talk about me? Maybe she thinks she chose the wrong brother."

Stefan didn't so much as twitch at those words. Damon leaned back, raising his empty glass. Stefan stood and walked toward the stairway leading upstairs. "Turn the lights out on your way up."

* * *

Damon set his drink down on the coffin lid. He removed his jacket and tossed it aside, raising his drink to the air to make a silent toast. The exchange with Stefan had hit a nerve. He felt lost and alone, and watching Elena wait on Stefan at the bottom of the stairs hadn't helped. His whole existence had been a mess, from the moment Stefan had forced him to drink and complete the transition. If Damon had been stronger then... but thinking on 'what ifs' and 'what might have been' was not Damon's style. What is and what will be was all he should dwell on, and Stefan was right.

"I don't need them." Damon drank from his glass, staring down at the closed casket. "My friend, your life sucks even more than mine." Damon smirked and drank to that sentiment. At least he wasn't daggered and left to collect cobwebs. So what if Elena chose Stefan. Big deal. Damon could move on. He didn't need this crap and he didn't need Elena's pitying stares. This was beneath him, and he meant to remedy that. Tonight he would go out and hunt. He would kill and he would like it and there was nothing to stop him.

_'That's just not cool, dude.'_

The conscious Damon had grown that sounded very much like Alaric voiced its opinion. Damon snarled at the coffin.

"Screw you." Damon drank some more, pointing a finger at the casket. "You know what's not cool, you trying to kill my friends and me. You being all self-righteous and then letting that bitch turn you. That's what's not cool." Damon slurred his words, swaying on his feet. He finished off his drink. He raised the coffin lid, and stared down at the still body. He set the empty glass aside, and sank to his knees.

"Screw everything," Damon said. He reached out, gripped the handle of the dagger and stopped, shaking his head. "No."

Damon turned and sat down, leaning against the coffin. He couldn't remember coming down to the basement, and he couldn't remember why he was here. He felt fuzzy and strange. Damon turned enough to see inside the coffin. He must have drunk more than he thought.

"This is all your fault," Damon mumbled. His head buzzed from the alcohol and he pushed himself up and around to face the coffin again, crawling inside and laying down on top of Alaric. "Stupid to ever have been my friend."

* * *

Damon stood in a room. A small lamp on the bedside table illuminated the place enough for Damon to realize that he was in Alaric's loft. He spun around and found Alaric a few feet away, standing before a suitcase on the bed. Alaric set a few shirts inside the open suitcase, glancing around when he noticed Damon staring.

"What?" Alaric asked, pausing in his task of packing. "Did you hear something?" Alaric leaned forward to scoop up a few pairs of folded pants and set them inside the suitcase. The case was now full, and Alaric closed it and hoisted it off the bed to set it down beside two other bags.

Damon realized that the loft looked empty of any personal belongings. He pointed at the entrance.

"I was somewhere else," Damon said, looking sideways at Alaric.

"Are you sure you don't want to discuss this?" Alaric sat down on the bed. The sheets were gone and the gossamer curtains fluttered in a breeze. A beam of sunlight played across the bed, falling on Alaric's pale face. He started to smoke in the light. "I know you said you're ready for this big step, but maybe we're going too fast here. Maybe I'm going too fast for you." Alaric continued to smoke in the light but didn't seem to notice. He smiled and his lips cracked. Damon leapt forward, pulling Alaric from the sun and against the far wall into his arms.

Alaric wrapped his arms around Damon's neck. "If you wanted to get frisky one last time," Alaric said with a grin, "all you had to do is ask."

* * *

"What the hell?"

Damon slit one eye open and saw only darkness. At some point he had drifted off. He felt something soft beneath him and realized that it was a body. Had he gone out hunting last night and brought someone home? If he had, he hoped that they were worth the time, because they weren't breathing which could only mean one thing. They must have been dead.

Someone shook him. Damon brushed them off.

"Go away. Can't you see I'm busy?" He reached out with his senses and realized that it was Stefan who was trying to pry his arm off to get him to wake up. Damon lashed out with bared fangs and snarled. When he opened his eyes, he realized that he was still in a dark place, and noted the far wall was not his bedroom. Damon reared up from where he lay to find himself still on top of Alaric, in the coffin. He turned his gaze from Stefan and crawled out of the casket, his back to his brother. The dagger still pierced Alaric's heart. His body still lay still as stone.

"What the hell were you doing?" Stefan said.

Damon realized that it had been Stefan's voice that had broken into his nightmare. He glanced around the room, noting more empty bottles than he remembered drinking. Damon shook his head, his brain still fuzzy.

"Nothing," Damon said. "I must have passed out." He muttered the words still unsure about what had happened last night. He didn't even know if it was last night. For all he knew, days might have passed since he'd ventured down into the tomb.

"Come on," Stefan said, taking Damon by the arm. "Let's get you upstairs and cleaned up." Damon allowed himself to be led out of the room and away from the dank mausoleum. They went upstairs together and Damon didn't say a word. Why had he gone down to the basement? He couldn't remember the thought crossing his mind. He didn't recall ever thinking that it might be a great idea to cozy up to the local dead vampire hunter. He did remember the dream.

Damon stripped and showered while Stefan waited outside. He ignored the look of concern on his brother's face when he walked from the bathroom naked and dripping wet. Stefan retrieved a towel from the bathroom and held it out for Damon to take. Damon smirked and took the towel, giving his body a cursory wipe then tossing it aside.

"You don't need to guard me every second of the day," Damon said, turning his back to Stefan.

"I'm concerned about you and what you might do." Stefan walked around Damon and stopped in front of him. "You've been spending a lot of time down in the basement, and that's a little disturbing." Stefan crossed his arms, smiled and leaned in closer to Damon. "Don't think this whole macabre, nutcase thing you've got going will bring Elena running to you."

Damon sighed and continued dressing, trying to ignore Stefan's words. It was bad enough that almost every night, Elena was here at the house. Damon could hear them through the walls. He thought about telling Stefan that he was only down there to avoid listening to their sickening lovey-dovey talk which made Damon want to retch, but he kept silent. He finished dressing and turned away from Stefan, heading for the exit. Stefan trailed after him.

"I've heard that you spend a lot of time at the Grill drinking," Stefan said. He was right behind Damon and when Damon spun around, Stefan was forced to make an abrupt stop, almost slamming into him.

"Is that a crime now?" Damon glared at his brother, wishing he would go back to his precious Elena.

"Of course not." The look in Stefan's eyes said otherwise.

"What is it?" Now it was Damon's turn to cross his arms.

"There were some unexplained bloody deaths over the weekend..."

Damon felt anger flare. "Oh, I see. So you think the second someone dies bloody, it's got to be Damon." He could see by Stefan's expression that this wasn't the case. Damon felt a cold chill. "Does Elena think I had something to do with them?" Even as he said the words, Damon didn't want to believe that after all that had happened, she could even go there.

"We're worried about you. You sleep all day, go out at all hours, disappear for days then I find you at the grill drinking until you stumble home drunk..." Stefan took a breath. "Even more disturbing, finding you asleep in a dead man's coffin."

Damon reared away from Stefan, narrowing his eyes. "I did get pretty drunk last night. That would have been embarrassing if it were Elena who found me." Damon paused as though contemplating the serious nature of what he'd just said. "I'll be more careful next time."

And he would be more careful. He had a plan. The moment Stefan rushed off to spend time with Elena, Damon knew what he had to do. He knew how this whole scenario needed to play out.

Damon shooed Stefan with a hand gesture. "Off you go. I'm sure Elena is waiting for you at home." Stefan stood his ground for a moment before he turned and walked away with a shake of his head.

* * *

The move happened in the nighttime while most people would be asleep. Damon didn't encounter obstacles, which was just as well, since he wasn't in the mood to compel so much as in the mood to kill.

He replaced the coffin in the basement with an identical one, and nailed the lid shut with a few articles of Alaric's clothing inside to throw anyone off the scent. Then he carried the original to the hearse they had stashed in the garage. Stefan had wanted to get rid of the vehicle, but they'd never gotten around to that. Something Damon was now grateful for. Even if the car stood out and turned some heads, for the most part, Damon remained undisturbed.

He managed to get the coffin stashed in Alaric's apartment, and only ran into one person who Damon compelled to forget he'd ever seen anyone. After he was done, Damon drove the car back to the house and tucked it back in its spot. When he went inside, he found the house still empty. He noted that it was almost three AM. Damon smirked at having gotten away with his move. He decided that a victory drink was in order.

When he came back down after changing into clean clothes, he sensed that something was not quite right. Damon rushed over to the fireplace and scooped up the poke, wielding it before him.

"Is that any way to greet a friend?" The purr of the familiar voice filled the air.

Damon lowered the poker. "Oh, it's you." His lip curled with distaste. "You're supposed to stay far away from here."

Rebekah stepped out of the shadows and into the room. Damon lowered the poker and placed it back on the stand. He sauntered over to the bar to pour himself a drink, a very strong drink.

"I should think you might be a little pleased to see me," Rebekah said, moving closer to Damon. He kept her in his peripheral vision, watching her every move. He had no hope of defeating her if it ever came down to that, but there was no way he was letting her get near him.

"Why would you ever think that," Damon said, pausing to take a drink. He turned to smile at her, adding. "Bitch."

"Now, now," Rebekah said with a wag of her finger. "I should think you would be kinder to me considering I may be your blood line."

Damon snorted and sat down sprawled on the sofa. "Yeah, right. All of a sudden, you're all our bloodline."

Damon heard footfalls.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Stefan said.

Damon twisted enough to see Stefan standing at the foot of the stairs. He had one of his false smiles painted on his face, and Damon could tell that Stefan wanted to tear into their uninvited guest.

"Hello, Stefan. Where's that pathetic waif of a human of yours?" Rebekah crossed her arms, and straightened her posture. Damon could see that every muscle in her body had gone tense the moment Stefan entered the room.

"Now, now," Damon said, standing. He finished off his drink, trying to remain casual. With any luck, they would all get out of this moment with their lives.

"I'm only here to warn you that my brother has it in his head to return to Mystic Falls." Rebekah didn't sound pleased.

"Really." Stefan moved. In the blink of an eye, he stood behind Rebekah. Damon followed suit. So what if she was more powerful. Damon had never expected to live forever.

"Yes." She turned to address Stefan and then turned her attention back to Damon. "I'll be leaving now." Rebekah backed away. Stefan moved to give her room.

"Remind him of the terms," Stefan said, watching her every move.

"I already have many times. He's stubborn and determined." Rebekah twirled, her hair flying around her head. "I told him to leave it be, but he won't listen to me." She shrugged.

"Consider us warned." Damon moved beside Stefan, gaze moving from Stefan to the retreating Rebekah. Then she vanished. "She's up to something."

"I'll follow her and see what I can find out about the real reason she's in town."

Damon watched Stefan leave.

* * *

Everything was darkness all around. For what felt like years, the black was his life. He knew nothing more and nothing less, except the feeling that someone was watching him. Eyes were on him and sometimes a weight fell on top of him.

It didn't matter. He couldn't move. He'd willed his body to move many times. For minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years - he wasn't sure how long he lay still in the darkness with something piercing his heart. For so long, he felt nothing but anger, rage. It was his whole world. It consumed him and ate his soul, but the weight, the voice, whispered words, calmed him.

Then the heavy feeling in his chest was gone.

* * *

This was suicide.

Damon sat on Alaric's bed. He turned his head to stare down at Alaric who now lay on the bed. Damon had dispensed with the coffin. Alaric looked as though he'd just fallen asleep. The dagger was gone. Damon couldn't wait for Stefan to return from tailing Rebekah. He knew what came next, and he knew what he had to do. They'd made a pact and Rebekah had broken her side of the deal. 

Time to wake the sleeping monster.

It didn't matter because he wanted to do this and had planned it all along. He hoped to do it on his own timetable, but sometimes things didn't go as planned.

Damon let the dagger fall to the floor with a clatter. He stood and backed away from the bed. Part of him wanted to pick up the dagger and plunge it back into place. The other part, wanted to find a deep dark hole and drop it inside where no one would ever find the damned thing. Instead, he moved back to lean against the far wall and wait. It felt like forever, but then a finger twitched, and the color started to return to Alaric's skin.

Was this really what Damon wanted to do? 

Then there was memory of all these months of lonely wandering and trying to find a place in this town, but feeling like he never belonged. The torture of having to watch his brother spend his time with Elena when Damon knew it should have been him that she picked. The anger Damon managed to control most of the time, resurfaced again. He wanted to scream, and tear out of the loft, killing the first person he encountered. 

Then Alaric moaned. The unstoppable killing machine bent on destroying the vampire race sat up, looking rather confused. Damon took one hesitant step forward.

Alaric cleared his throat, probably dry from the months of inactivity. He clutched at his chest, clawing the ragged hole in his shirt.

"Was I dead again?"

Damon moved to the bedside, hesitant to relax lest his friend try to make an attempt on his life. "Yes...and no." Damon flinched at how vague that sounded. He watched with tensed body, unsure about what to do next. Alaric seemed... normal. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to look at Damon, confusion in his eyes. His mouth was curled with distaste.

Damon relaxed and moved in closer, almost convinced that this Alaric wouldn't try to kill him the first chance he got.

"Seriously," Alaric said, gaze locked on Damon. A tuft of bang fell in front of his eyes, and Damon watched Alaric flick it aside. "How long was I dead this time?" Alaric sighed and fell back, one hand covering his eyes. "I didn't go evil again, did I?"

Damon picked up the dagger and twirled it in one hand.

"Actually, you were more like incapacitated, due to your evil self taking control and trying to kill us all," Damon said. He quirked a brow and shrugged. "But I'm not holding that against you."

Alaric moved his hand and glared up at Damon. "Are you kidding me?" He sat up again. This time, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, hanging his head with a groan. "Dude, I have the worse hangover in the history of..." he squinted up at Damon and flinched. "Well, history."

There was a long pause. Damon watched Alaric, drinking in his every move. He knew the man better than anyone and knew this was the real him. He'd had many opportunities to study Alaric. Thought about many of the nights they had spent drunk together. Damon took a deep breath, and pushed aside this train of thought. There was no use going there. This was neither the time nor the place.

"I wish I were joking, but that bitch..."

"I remember that." Alaric raised his head and nodded. "I killed Esther, and then..." Alaric waved a hand in the air with a flourish. His gaze caught on the moving hand and he stared, lost in thought. "Then I decided to die. Why am I so pale?"

Damon watched the realization grow on Alaric's face. He moved in close and sat down on the bed beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

"The choice was taken away from you," Damon said. 

Alaric turned to stare into Damon's eyes. 

"You and I have that in common. I decided not to go through with the transition, but other people had other plans."

Alaric nodded. "I remember you telling me that, or at least I think I do. I mean, I was kind of drunk at the time."

Damon's phone rang at that moment. He should have let it ring to voicemail, but something told him they needed a break. He stared down at the name on the screen, and then picked up.

"Yes, little brother." Damon locked eyes with Alaric.

"What did you do?" On the other end of the line, Damon could almost feel Stefan vibrate with frustration. There was no reason to assume this had anything to do with Alaric.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what I did this time," Damon said with a smirk. Alaric leaned into Damon, and Damon watched mesmerized when Alaric licked dry lips.

"You know what I mean."

Damon shook his head. "Nope, not this time. Oh and by the way, that original bitch broke her promise so guess what I did." Damon hung up the phone and tossed it over his shoulder to let it bounce on the bed.

Alaric eyed Damon, suspicion in his gaze.

Damon sighed and let out a puff of breath. "We agreed to dagger you and put you in a coffin as long as Rebekah and clan left town for good."

"Did I at least kill any more of them?"

"There's just Rebekah, Elijah and Klaus left, and one of them sired our bloodline." Damon stood up and paced, feeling anxious with each word. He wasn't sure why, but something like panic that maybe this wasn't the right move after all, started to set in. "There's no way to tell which one of them started our bloodline and they won't give up that information, for obvious reasons."

"So. What, now I'm an unstoppable killing machine?" Alaric said. He stood up and turned on the spot. "Who is not evil. By the way."

It was Damon's turn to eye Alaric. "Are you sure you're not evil?"

"I don't think so, but there's no real way to check."

"Do you want to kill me right now?" Damon eyed the dagger. It wasn't as though he would be able to use it anyway. Even if he made it across the room and managed to somehow grab the thing, it wasn't as though he wanted to, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"I have the urge to punch you out, but kill you," Alaric shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, good then everything is back to normal."

Alaric looked outraged. "Normal! Are you _kidding_ me? This isn't normal. I'm an undead blood drinking asshole and you call that normal."

"I thought of that." Damon moved to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out two blood bags. He held one out for Alaric and took one for himself. "There's probably people on their way here as we speak. You should drink."

"No." Alaric shook his head and backed away. His eyes shifted from blue and darkened to red, the veins beneath them filling with blood. Damon ignored the shot of lust he felt at the sight of Alaric in full vampire mode.

"Come on," Damon said, moving forward, the blood bag held out before him. Damon bit the cap off of his and took a drink, allowing blood to spurt on his lips. He resisted licking them, but kept his gaze on Alaric's every move. For one brief moment, Damon was convinced that Alaric was going to give in, but the man had more control than Damon ever could. Damon drank again, letting the blood dribble down his chin. In the blink of an eye, before Damon could react, Alaric was on top of him, pressing Damon against the far wall, their mouths locked. It wasn't a kiss so much as Alaric sucked on Damon's lips to get the blood. Damon squeezed the blood bag, blood gushing all over his hand. Alaric dived on the hand, licking and sucking every drop of the spilt blood.

"Fuck."

They slid together to sit on the floor, and Damon struggled against Alaric's strength to uncap the second bag. He didn't have to wave it in Alaric's face. Alaric grabbed the bag and sucked it dry.

Alaric lay sprawled across Damon's lap with their legs tangled together, blood on his face and hands. Damon couldn't deny the impact of the scene before him. He was hard, and the sucking sounds of Alaric drinking his fill kicked Damon's libido into high gear. He grabbed Alaric by the shoulders and mashed their mouths together. This time it was a kiss, harsh and unyielding. Alaric twisted on top of Damon until Damon was trapped beneath him. His lips and tongue tasted of blood, and Damon licked, kissed, and sucked, hungry for more.

When they pulled apart, Damon stared wide-eyed up at Alaric who had him pinned to the floor. Alaric's cheeks were pink with color and he looked much healthier than a few moments ago. No longer in vamp mode, Alaric rolled off Damon and lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Damon turned to lie on his side, facing Alaric.

"We should probably find you some nicer clothes," Damon said.

"You could help me with that." Alaric grinned with a twinkle in his eyes.

Damon struggled to get up, but then stopped to stare into Alaric's eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

Alaric tilted his head and gave Damon his best 'are you shitting me' gaze. That look always undid Damon. He couldn't resist this time unlike all the other times. Damon lunged forward and locked his lips on Alaric's bloody mouth, licking and sucking and kissing. He tore at Alaric's shirt, yanking it off his shoulders. They both managed to sit up without breaking the kiss, Damon straddling Alaric's hips. After that, everything was a blur. They tore at each other's clothes, shredding them until there was nothing left but strips scattered on the floor around them. They paused and stared, Damon's gaze traveling over Alaric's naked chest. Then Alaric pushed Damon off, stunning Damon. He fell back and watched Alaric crawl on all fours, stalking Damon like a predator stalks its prey.

Damon took in every inch of Alaric's sleek, naked body, admiring the taunt cords of the muscles of Alaric's arms and thighs. He stared at the length of Alaric's hard cock hanging heavy between his open thighs. Damon's cock jumped at the sight. He wanted to pounce on Alaric right now, but resisted the urge, drinking in Alaric in all his glory. Becoming a vampire agreed with Ric in more ways than one.

When Alaric stopped at Damon's feet, Damon felt his heart speed up with anticipation at what he would do next. On his knees, Alaric caressed Damon with both hands, beginning at Damon's feet. He sniffed and then licked Damon's left foot first. Damon shivered, keeping his gaze locked on Alaric as he crawled up Damon, stroking Damon's thighs. Alaric urged then apart and Damon complied. Damon bit down on his bottom lip, drawing blood. That got Alaric's attention fast. Alaric's hungry gaze locked on Damon's mouth, but he only swallowed and continued his journey along Damon's body, licking the inside of one thigh then the other. He moved with slow agonizing speed, licking and stroking every inch of Damon's skin, driving Damon insane.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Damon couldn't take the teasing any long. Just when he thought he would explode, he felt Alaric's warm breath on the length of his hard cock. Damon almost screamed when Alaric wrapped his lips around the head, sucking the length into his mouth, devouring him. Damon's mouth a silent 'o', his gaze locked on the ceiling, Damon slammed a hand on the floor, writhing beneath Alaric's weight. He tilted his head enough to watch Alaric suck him off.

Damon cried out when he came, and then reached out for Alaric, pulling him up on top of him to mash their mouths together. Hungry for more, Damon bit down on Alaric's bottom lip, drawing blood. They struggled as they kissed and Damon rolled so that he was on top, grinding up against Alaric. He gripped the hard length of Alaric's cock in one hand and gave a vicious tug. Alaric groaned with each stroke. When Alaric came, Damon wrapped an arm around Alaric's neck, writhing against his body. Damon could feel his lust rise again, and thrust his growing length against Alaric, who grinned against Damon's wet mouth.

"You weren't kidding about vampire libidos," Alaric said, kissing Damon like a hungry beast.

Damon shook his head and kissed Alaric harder, wanting to stay like this forever. Their sweat slicked bodies slid against each other in perfect harmony. Alaric rolled them to sit astride Damon, pinning Damon's arms above his head. They gazed into each other's eyes. Alaric seemed to be searching for something in Damon. Alaric's eyes turned red, then the moment was over and they were kissing again. With their bodies pressed so close, tangled together, Alaric thrust against Damon, their cocks hard again. The friction alone was enough to make Damon come again, and he did. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. Alaric kissed Damon's throat, locking his mouth on the pulse point. When he bit down, Damon thought he would come again, he was that turned on.

Alaric pulled back, staring down at Damon with blood on his mouth. His eyes were still red and his fangs were bared. Damon grabbed Alaric by the back of his neck and forced him down for a long, hard kiss.

The thump at the door interrupted the moment. Alaric broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together.

"Bad timing," Alaric said.

"Nope," Damon said, never taking his eyes off Alaric. Even when Alaric pulled back, Damon wanted to yank him in again for another kiss.

"Damon, are you in there?"

"Nope," Damon called out.

"Come on," Stefan said. "I know you're in there and I know what you're up to."

"So what." Damon fell back with frustration.

Alaric rolled away and stood up in one smooth blur. He was gone in a flash, and dressed in clean clothes in a heartbeat. No time to clean up. Damon stood and stared down at the torn shreds of their clothes, blood still smeared on his chin and chest.

"That was one of my favorite shirts," Damon said, turning to face Alaric.

Alaric stood a few feet away with an expression that looked very much like guilt all over his face. Damon winked at him and walked to answer the door. He swung it wide-open, intent on standing naked before Stefan, but Alaric was there with a towel, wrapping it around Damon to cover him up. By the shocked expression on Elena's face, Damon knew it was too late. She'd seen. Damon cocked a smile at the two and stepped aside to allow them entrance.

"Are you insane?" Stefan said. He slammed the door shut behind him and Elena, even though there was no one else in the hallway to see.

Damon strutted across the loft, gripping the towel with one hand and waving the other arm in the air.

"You interrupted a private moment," Damon said, turning to look over his shoulder at them. He realized that Alaric had moved to the darkest, farthest corner of the loft.

"Damon," Alaric said. He pressed against the wall, gaze on Elena.

Damon could feel the hunger rising in Alaric. Despite the blood he'd consumed, Alaric still wanted more. Damon spun and pointed at Elena. "You need to get her out of here, now."

Elena backed away, wide eyes locked on Alaric. "Ric." She shook her head and Damon could see that she was on the edge of breaking. "I'm so sorry."

"Get her out of here," Alaric said, panic in his voice.

Damon rushed to his side and pinned him to the wall. He leaned in close, placing his lips to Alaric's ear.

"You can control this," Damon said. "I know you can. I know you would never hurt Elena." Tense beneath him, Damon didn't relax even when he felt Alaric take in a deep breath, and saw his fangs retreat. Damon gripped Alaric's face in his hands and forced him to look into his eyes. "Come on, Ric. You are in control."

Alaric nodded, pressing against Damon.

"I want to help," Elena said.

Damon turned to find her still in the apartment, Stefan holding her in place.

"You heard the man," Damon said. "Leave or I won't be responsible for what happens. I'm not strong enough to hold him back."

Damon should have known better. Alaric was stronger and with Damon's attention turned away from him, in that moment Alaric took the opportunity to shove Damon across the room. Too startled to react in time, Damon slid down the wall, his head swimming with pain and black spots dancing before his eyes. Damon tried to stand up at the sound of a scream, Elena's scream, but he fell back like a puppet with its strings cut.

He might have blacked out for a second. When he opened his eyes, Elena and Stefan were gone. The front door was wide open and he saw Alaric crouched in the center of the room, head bowed and arms wrapped around his body. Damon groaned and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. His hand came away covered with blood. Alaric's head snapped to attention, turning red eyes and bared fangs to face Damon.

"You should have left me in the coffin."

The next moment, Alaric was gone in a blur. Damon struggled to his feet and called out to him, but it was too late. Alaric was gone. Damon rushed to the open door and stopped when the dizziness overcame him. He paused and then remembered that he was still in a towel. He needed to find something that fit from Alaric's wardrobe. He had some time. It was still daylight, but Damon's eyes went wide when he realized what that meant. He rushed to dress.

He found Alaric standing in the shadow of the building. The sun was out and there was not a cloud in the sky.

"I know what you're thinking," Damon said.

Alaric turned, pain written in his eyes. He shook his head. "I can't be like this."

Damon took one step closer and Alaric took a step away, closer to the line that separated his world from dark to blinding sunshine. Damon held his hands up in surrender.

"Come on, it's not that hard," Damon said. He almost flinched at the lameness of his words.

"I don't want to kill," Alaric said. His voice rose with each word. The pain in his eyes intensified.

For the first time in his life, Damon felt a pang in his heart he hadn't since the day he died. Damon took a step back and folded his arms, taking a deep breath.

"You're seriously going to give this up?" When Alaric looked confused, Damon lunged forward within arms reach, forcing Alaric to take a step back and almost into the sun. "Us. You and me. Come on." Damon threw his arms up and turned on the spot. "We're team badass and now with you..." Damon raked his gaze up and down Alaric, admiring every inch of his perfect body.

"What? Virtually indestructible." Alaric flinched and glanced at the line, raising one foot into the sunshine. He started to smoke.

"I was going to say superhot." Damon shrugged and rolled his eyes, but his cavalier attitude belied his true feelings of panic and fear. He locked on Alaric's gaze refusing to let him break the moment, and held out his hand. "I can help you. Look, I won't lie. It's not easy and it won't be easy ever again." He shrugged again. "But when has life ever been easy? Seriously."

Alaric looked skeptical. He glanced at the light then back at Damon. For one second Damon was sure that Alaric would walk into the sun and then he saw it in Alaric's eyes. Alaric took a step toward Damon.

"It probably wouldn't kill me anyway," Alaric said, defeat in his tone.

Maybe Alaric was right, but Damon didn't want to take the chance that Alaric's suicidal streak would let that stop him from finding a way to end his life forever.

With Alaric's new status and their new status, there wasn't anything they couldn't do together. There was no need for the ring and no need to watch Alaric die over and over, with the fear that maybe one of those deaths would be his last. Damon had finally found the perfect partner and he wasn't going to let that go. He lunged forward and kissed Alaric hard on the mouth, erasing all doubt in his own mind that this was what he wanted.

Then Alaric wrapped his arms around Damon, pulling him in closer. They went back inside together, arm in arm. Damon leaned in closer and whispered what he wanted to do to Alaric when they were safe in the apartment. Alaric reared back, wide eyes on Damon.

"Is that even physically possible?"

With a cocky smile and a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, Damon was dragged along when Alaric sped his pace to get to their destination. This was going to be an interesting life.

End


End file.
